


Something about Samhain

by WanderingSummerBreeze



Category: Outlander (TV) RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-30
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-27 21:16:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8417005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WanderingSummerBreeze/pseuds/WanderingSummerBreeze
Summary: Sam's POVIt's the Saturday before Halloween. That's it.





	

Sam’s POV

I’ve never been one for costumes on Halloween. I dress up for a living with makeup and such, so the need to do it at a party seems slightly irritating to me. But that doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy seeing others do it.

I shifted my wolf mask from my face to the top of my head, the elastic tugging on my straightened hair. I dip my hairy gloves into the crisp bowl and take more than my share before popping them into my mouth, crumbs falling on my black t-shirt as I absently wipe them away.

It’s Saturday, October 29, 2016, just a couple of nights before Samhain. Eerie adornments litter the pub from this way to that. The glow of softly lit strings of lights die against the centuries old wood rooftops as Jack-o-lanterns flicker in darkened corners, casting ghostly shadows to play across the walls as couples everywhere seem to use the night for re-kindling other flames. Mostly in states of rapid undress.

The party is dying down and I have seen no sign of my woman in (presumed) red. Caitriona had gone into Edinburgh for a spa day with friends, a promise of re-emergence at this party still waiting to be fulfilled.

I take another swig of beer, the ginger taste quickly lost as I scan the room once more. I had met up with some friends of ours earlier, but most have either left or can only be found in silhouettes along the wall.

The music in the evening started with a mixture of silly Halloween songs before gradually becoming edgier. Sexier; until finally the well-known guitar licks of Sweet Dreams comes on. Marilyn Manson’s voice creeping its way cross the dancing floor, overtaking the crowd, strobe lights entrancing me as if stuck in the middle of a theatre, watching those in front of me about to be sacrificed on the silver screen. 

A dark-haired lass breaks through the crowd almost in slow motion, like the virgin, walking straight toward her own slaughter. Her bright blue eyes finally find me, and as if playing my role, I walk steadfast toward her. 

I pull her into my body and tug at her crimson lips with fever. My prey drops her basket of flowers, scattering daisies around us as if we were encased in coffin together. The music percolates her skin and she gives herself to me, arms wrapping around my head. I pull back and scan her eyes for any doubt. There is none. 

My wolfed-out hand grazes her cheek under her red hood, the long nails scraping down her jawline, her neck, tracing across her exposed pale, iridescent skin. I lean in, the cape hood pulled back slightly, and lick her outer ear slowly. A shiver works through her body.

“I’ll take you to grandma’s house, little girl.” 

Her breath hitches. The song plays on, bellowing out the speakers with fierceness, but I can still hear the change in her breathing. Can still feel it. She is a part of me, and I her. My blood bubbles in my veins as her fingers grip the leather of my jacket. Her body sways slowly, as if in a hypnotic state.

“Trust me to show you the way,” I pull back and see into her eyes with, I can only imagine, is the evilest look I have ever given. She almost looks frightened, but I know it isn’t. It’s desire. I don’t feel quite myself right now, and she must feel the same. All I know is that I need to be inside her quivering, wetness. I long to be scarred by her scorching heat.

I lift my hand in offer. Without a broken gaze or a blink of interruption, she takes it. I pull down my mask, covering my features, and lead her away from the fornicating limbs in black and white.

We push through the crowd like ghosts, scarcely being noticed until we reach the cloak room. I wrench her inside. There is no door and I just push her against the wall. I leave the mask and bend lower, running my hands up her calves and under her dress. Her thighs open wider and I watch as her head rolls to the side as my nails scrape lightly across her wet lower lips. She is so wet and I can feel the heat from her pussy. Her sex fills the room with the most intoxicating scent, driving me mad as I pull the mask from my face and dip underneath her dress in search of nourishment.

My tongue finds hers in moments, her wetness coating my lips, traveling a road down my throat it has so often done before. Her hands come down to her skirts, my head feeling their weight as she fucks my mouth. My hands push apart her lips, delving in as deep as possible into the quarry of wetness.

I feel her hands push me harder, nails digging into my scalp, as her hips grind in motion with my tongue. Her breathing is labored and comes in sharp gasps and straggled moans. My thumb plays with her entrance as my index finger pushes inside her backside. She jumps against me as I latch onto her clit and she jerks above me, her liquid flooding my tongue as she cums with a fierce cry only drowned out by the music.

I lap her pussy clean and carefully, little jolts from her body occasionally jerking through me, before coming out from under her dress.

The background music has changed a time or two, but as I crawl up her shaking body and peer down at her exhausted form, my devilishness has not been satiated. I scrape a nail across her corset, eyeing it with a hint of anger. It teases me. It gives me a glimpse of her breasts, but keeps the ever-succulent nipple tucked safely behind its confines.

She catches me looking and runs her hands up and down my thighs before an adventurous one seeks excitement elsewhere and cups my package, straining agonizingly against my black jeans.

“My my,” she says, “what a big package you’ve got there.”

It could have sounded corny. It could have sounded ridiculously silly. But it didn’t. Falling from her lips, it was the most seductive song I could ever hear.

I smile, unzip, pull out, push up her skirts, lift her up and ram home, all in the same line of lyrics to Bloodletting.  
I’m only still a moment, allowing the heat to radiate through my body, “All the better to fuck you with” I whisper in her ear before I begin to punish her body. 

She returns my assault in kind; grasping my hair and pulling me into her. She licks my neck as her hood falls behind her, sucking and nibbling, before finding my mouth again. 

I don’t know if we were kissing. Our breathing too labored for our mouths to properly seal, but our breath, each hot and spicy, breathed by the other. We hear noises to our right and turn to see a younger couple fall against the wall a mere 10 feet away, laughing and kissing. 

Our eyes are fixed on them but our movements don’t cease. They finally catch sight of us, shadows moving too quickly to be ignored, and while we’re certain our faces cannot be seen, we both dare them silently to keep watching.

This is what true need is, I think as I push in deeper and deeper. But I feel our audience’s eyes on us longer than necessary. My grip tightens on her ass and back in possession, leaving my mark. 

Point taken. Our un-wanted companions leave us and I feel my head roll back and to the side. I’m close. My thrusts become jagged and messy. I feel her lips on my neck again. Her nips and licks urge me on and I’m just about to pass over to the other side when I feel her teeth pierce my skin and I erupt inside her in a quake strong enough to bring down the walls between this world and the next for good.

I stay inside her as long as humanly possible before I slip out. My cock drained of every ounce of semen. Her legs fall from my waist as I slowly let her down. I touch her chest, by her heart and she mirrors my actions. I feel a smile cross my face before finally allowing my eyes to finally seek some light and open. 

Our foreheads touch and I touch her face again. She pulls back taking my hand, petting the hair and feeling the fake nails.  
“You got full prosthetics on your hand? I’m impressed.”

I scoff, “I just made you cum and that’s what your impressed with?”

“Well,” she smiles, shyly, “I know you’re not a big fan of Halloween costumes.”

“Anything for you, Caitriona. Anything. Including the copious amounts of moisturizer I’ll have to put on my hands after I take the hair off.”

“Hmm,” she says absently stroking the fake hair, “maybe I’ll be nice and let you use mine.”

I kiss her, the gentlest I’ve done since the night began, and rub my forehead against hers before pulling back and feeling my neck where she bit me. 

I make a noise I can’t even decipher, rubbing the sore spot, checking for actual blood, satisfied in not finding any, I cease my actions. “Makeup is going to kill you on Monday if I have bite marks. Since when was Little Red Riding Hood a vampire.”

“Sorry. Something about the music and lights and…” she admits, “well, the night.”

“Aye. The night.”


End file.
